


Fate Is Pulling You Miles Away

by Catnip_3



Category: The Greatest Showman (2017)
Genre: Angst and Tragedy, Anne Can't Cope Either, Anne Wheeler Is A Mess, Anne Wheeler Needs A Hug, Bad Coping Skills, Barnum Is In Denial, Charity is a mess, Focused On P.T. Barnum, Funerals, He's Not Doing Well, Heartbreak, Hurt Phillip Carlyle, I know This Because I Was Sobbing, It's Really Sad; Trust Me, No Self Harm Tho, P. T. Barnum Needs a Hug, P.T. Barnum is basically Phillip's dad, Phillip Carlyle Needs a Hug, Phillip dies, Quick Days And Nights, SPOILER:, Sad Anne Wheeler, Sad Ending, Sad P.T. Barnum, Sickness, Tears, Tragedy, Worried Charity Barnum, Worried P. T. Barnum, You'll Cry., death bed, it's really sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-01
Updated: 2021-02-01
Packaged: 2021-03-18 21:01:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29124606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Catnip_3/pseuds/Catnip_3
Summary: Barnum was very busy, trying to rebuild the circus and deal with the financial situation was taking its toll on him. Phillip was still recovering from the fire, leaving Barnum to deal with it all.He barely had anytime to breathe, let alone go visit his sick partner that was currently living with the Wheelers. Plus, Barnum would see Phillip once the young man got better; there was nothing to worry about. Unless... Phillip is getting better, right?
Relationships: Anne Wheeler & W. D. Wheeler, Caroline Barnum & Helen Barnum & P.T. Barnum, Caroline Barnum & Helen Barnum & Phillip Carlyle, Charity Barnum & Anne Wheeler, Charity Barnum & Phillip Carlyle, Charity Barnum/P. T. Barnum, Lettie Lutz & Anne Wheeler, Lettie Lutz & Charles "Tom Thumb" Stratton, P. T. Barnum & Other(s), P. T. Barnum & Phillip Carlyle, Phillip Carlyle & Charles ''Tom Thumb'' Stratton, Phillip Carlyle & Lettie Lutz, Phillip Carlyle/Anne Wheeler
Comments: 3
Kudos: 7





	Fate Is Pulling You Miles Away

**Author's Note:**

> **So recently I watched The Greatest Showman for the first time and it only took a day before I’m suddenly in the fandom. Of course, since I’m an angst writer at heart, it was the first thing I looked at.**
> 
> **I was sadly disappointed to see barely any Dead!Phillip stories so here I am adding my contribution :D**
> 
> **(This is an Au that takes place three days after P.T. and Phillip become 50/50 partners and Phillip gives the circus his 10% cut)**
> 
> **Also: I have a Tumblr account for this Ao3 account! More info about it in the end notes!!!**

P.T. sighed and shuffled around some of the papers that littered his desk. 

The Barnums managed to find a small apartment in the city, something they could afford and was a reasonable size for the family of four. He and Charity still had a lot to work on in their relationship but he seemed to be getting closer to her everyday and she seemed to have some-what forgiven him too. 

Sadly, Barnum knew he could be 10x closer to his wife if their poor circus hadn’t burnt down. Of course, he knew the only person to blame for that was himself and so he carried on with looking at so many documents. 

Parading around with Lind was the biggest mistake of his life, something that would surely haunt him for the rest of his days. 

Finally, Barnum found the paper he was looking for, the final form he had to sign before the new circus’ land would be theirs indefinitely. 

He had no fears that it wouldn’t be theirs, Barnum had already ordered the gigantum tent to start being put up. 

A soft knock on the door had Barnum looking up, smiling when he noticed his beautiful wife standing there. 

‘To what do I owe the pleasure?’ 

Charity chuckled, shaking her head and folding her arms while she leaned against the doors frame. ‘I just got a telegram from Anne.’ 

_Why would Anne send a telegram?_

‘What did she say?’ 

Charity’s face took on a look of apprehension and Barnum could feel his heart beat a little faster as he waited for his wife to speak. ‘She said Phillip has come on with a cold.’

His heart beat settled and he let out a small chuckle. ‘Oh. You had me worried, Charity!’ 

Barnum focused his attention back to his desk as Charity looked at him disbelievingly. ‘Phin!’ 

He popped his head back up, unsure as to why she was upset. ‘What?’ 

‘Aren’t you worried?’

‘Why would I be? Phil is a young, strong man and I’m sure this cold will pass with time.’ Somehow, the words sounded hollow to his ears and he wondered if Charity noticed. 

‘Phin..’ 

Irritation seeped into his blood and very uncharastically he snapped out a ‘What!’

Charity recoiled, shock glazing over her eyes. Regret instantly replaced the irritation and Barnum quickly stood up and went over to his wife, hugging her comfortingly. 

‘I’m sorry.’ He mumbled into her shoulder. ‘I’m just so stressed lately. There’s so much to do and usually Phillip is there to help with these things.’ 

Charity hummed, caressing his head and twisting his hair between her fingers. ‘I know. I’m just so worried about him, Phin. Anne said he’s already having a hard time breathing without sickness and that his burns are still not healed.’ 

‘He’ll be okay.’ Phin wasn’t sure who he was comforting or who needed to hear the words more. 

‘Your right, I’m probably just overreacting.’ Charity let out a sigh, lightly tugging away from the hug and moving to hold his face in her hands. 

He smiled and leaned forward, offering her a small and delicate kiss.

‘Let’s go to bed. We’re both exhausted and need the rest.’ P.T. let out a hum of agreement and let his wife drag him into the bedroom. 

It would be an exhausting week but with Charity by his side, P.T. felt like he could do anything. 

\--

The next day saw P.T. sitting on a stray crate and drawing in a worn sketch pad. Around him, the tent for the circus was slowly being put up, a job that was taking two dozen men to achieve. 

Barnum didn’t mind the ruckus, while he was with Lind he forgot how much he loved the chaos of sound. 

It didn’t distract him from his work, a sketch of a new costume for the Lord of Leeds covering the paper in different colors. He chanced a glance up, wanting to see the progress that was being made. 

His gaze wandered off to a form walking towards him and he quickly stood up, a smile brightening his features as he held out his hands, as if showing off the circus.

‘Anne! How are you?’ 

The poor girl looked worn out, dark smudges under her eyes that stood out sullenly against her dark and fair skin.

‘Hey, P.T.’ Her voice was just as tired, making it look and sound like the fire inside her had been extinguished, the bright soul replaced by something more desperate. 

Worry wormed through his stomach as his mind tried to come up with a reasonable explanation for why Anne looked and sounded like this. 

Instead of asking the obvious question, he decided to push it to the side for now. ‘What do you need Anne?’ 

The smallest of smiles found its way on her lips, making Barnum feel 10x lighter than before. ‘I wanted to see how everything was coming along.’ 

Anne’s gaze shifted around, eyeing the tent that was slowly gaining height. Barnum followed her gaze to the tent. 

‘It’s better than I could’ve ever imagined.’ The thought was out of his mouth before his mind filtered it. But it was true, he never could’ve imagined this without Phillip. Brave, brave, Phillip. 

‘Yes. Yes it is.’ Anne seemed to tire once more, the smile and sparkle in her eye fading out, something that P.T. didn’t notice. 

‘How’s Phil?’ Anne swallowed, avoiding his gaze. P.T. didn’t see, he was still staring at the striped tent. 

‘He’s gotten a fever, it's been there since last night. While I came to look at the tent... I also came to look for you. It would mean a lot to Phillip if you visited him. Every time he wakes up he’s asking if you’ve come by to see him.’ 

Guilt speared through his heart. Barnum had meant to visit Phillip earlier today but so much was going on and he was just so busy. 

He let out a sigh. ‘I was going to visit him today but with everything going on.. I just couldn’t get away.’

Anne looked at him with something akin to pity as he turned to face her. ‘It’s okay P.T. You have a lot going on, just… will you at least try to visit him tomorrow?’ 

He knew the likeliness that he’d have time tomorrow would be low but the hopeful look on Anne’s face had him saying yes in a heartbeat. ‘Of course.’ 

She wore a genuine smile at the answer, a small gleam returning to her eye. ‘Thank you, Barnum. I’ll tell Phillip the good news and we’ll see you tomorrow.’

In the blink of an eye, Anne was gone. No doubt heading back home to the small and worn apartment her and Phillip managed to find. 

W.D. lived there as well, the three of them managing to afford it together. This was common since the fire, most of the performers were living together in groups of threes and fours. 

Barnum let out another sigh as he headed back to his crate, more or less collapsing on it and fiddling with the paper. 

He very much wanted to see Phillip but there was so much he had to do and a small, logical part of his brain reassured him that he’d see the young man when he got better. 

It was just the common cold, P.T. was sure of it. It was something that Phillip could easily beat and in no time Phin would have to deal with the young man’s insufferable attitude and knack for trouble.

However, there was the bigger part of his brain, the illogical and artistic part that told him to visit Phillip, just in case he didn’t get to see him again-. 

_No. Phillip was going to be okay._

\-- 

That night was full of night terrors about Phillip.

He kept seeing Phillip running into the collapsing circus building and P.T. being held back by cruel hands, never able to go in and save his friend. 

There were others dreams where he did manage to carry Phillip out, setting him down on the ground only to find no pulse. Anne was always in the background, tears staining her cheeks as he screamed for help, for someone to save her lover. 

Then there was an odd dream or two where Phillip lay in his apartment, as skinny as a dead man and more frail than a newborn kitten. 

His eyes would be sunken in and he’d slowly turn his head towards Phin, holding out his hand.

P.T. would always reach forward, trying to grasp the skeletal hand in a sign of reassurance but was never able to reach it. Phillip would die and lifeless blue eyes would stare into his soul, the spark that always rested in the sky blue beauties, gone. 

Charity was the one to comfort him when he woke up from the nightmares and he’d end up crying into her shoulder as she swayed back and forth, humming an unknown tune.

By the time the sun peeked over the horizon, both Charity and P.T. were running on a few hours of sleep but the couple didn’t say a thing. Instead, they forced on smiles that became genuine when their two daughters burst in with giggles and glee, chasing away Barnum’s nightmares. 

\--

The day was very similar to the last. Barnum ate breakfast then said goodbye to his family and headed to the under-construction circus, a yawn escaping him as response to his restless night. 

The tent was mostly up now and soon he’d need to start filling the big tent up with all of the circus’ items. 

Amazingly, P.T. had also managed to finish up a couple of the new costumes for the performers. He kept them at his home, not wanting the stylish pieces to get lost or dirty as the tent came up.

He was proud of how they all came out but he was most proud of his and Phillip’s outfits. The bright red-tailcoats were sharp and elegant, both being tailored to their masters. 

Barnum already had Phillip’s size and was confident in it’s fit. Excitement fizzled through him as he realized everything was finally coming together. So many new ideas for the circus were zooming around his head, threatening to spill out in a song or on paper. 

He settled on paper, jotting down ideas with hands shaky from adrenaline. He ended up singing a couple of song lyrics as well. 

The ringmaster sat on the same crate from yesterday, a smile on his lips the whole day as page after page of new ideas flowed freely. 

A single thought was on his mind the entire day. 

_He couldn’t wait to tell Phillip about these new ideas._

The rest of the day passed like this, Barnum only taking a break for food and the restroom from time to time. 

The sun offered warmth and light throughout the whole day, clear and sunny skies reaching for miles. 

That night when he went home, it was to an amazing dinner with his family and Barnum went to bed peacefully with his wife curled into his side. 

He’d sung the girls to sleep earlier, telling them stories about following their dreams until small snores were heard around the room and then he snuck back to his wife, who waited for him in the bed. 

P.T. had never felt more content in his life. 

\--

The morning was complete contrast to yesterday, a gloomy and rainy day pounded against the dining room window as the family ate breakfast. 

The girls were talking to each other in hushed whispers, no doubt scheming something. It had a mischievous smile reaching Barnum’s lips as he secretly watched them from behind a newspaper he wasn’t reading.

Suddenly, a knock on their front door had Charity standing up and heading over to see who it was. The girls were still talking, oblivious of the knocking. 

After a moment of thought, Barnum thought he’d better join his wife and walked to the front where Charity held a piece of paper. 

The door was closed, signalling it was a quick drop off. Even with her back turned to him, he could see his wife’s fingers slightly shaking as they held the opened letter. 

With a frown, he walked behind her and hugged her in a sign of comfort, also using his height as an advantage to read the letter over her shoulder. 

However, before he had the chance, Charity neatly folded it back to its original form. 

She turned around with tears in her eyes and Barnum knew something was very, very wrong. 

‘Charity?’ His voice was small and gentle, like talking to a skittish animal. 

Tears leaked out of her eyes and before he knew what was happening, she was in his arms with sobs wracking over her body. 

His heart felt like it was beating out of his chest. 

_What’s going on?_

He’d never seen Charity cry like this before, even after all their years of marriage and he was terrified of what was in that letter to reduce his wife to this state. 

At some point, the girls had rushed in and were also hugging Charity, offering some form of comfort for their mother. Their expressions were full of confusion and fear, not understanding why mommy was crying. 

After a couple of more minutes where Charity finally calmed herself down, Phin gently led her to a random chair, the girls trailing behind. 

She was still shaking and her face was red and puffy, small tears trailing down her cheeks like falling rain. 

P.T. kneeled down in front of her, grasping her hands and catching her eyes. They were full of grief, bone-aching grief and sadness. 

The girls were off to the side, holding each other and watching silently. 

‘Char?’

She let out a deep sigh. ‘Oh.. oh-Phin!’ She wrapped her arms around him and he held her tightly. 

‘What’s going on?’ He whispered in her left ear.

‘H-he’s.. D-d..gone. He’s gone, Phin.’ Confusion and worry rushed through him as he tried to think about who she could be talking about. 

‘Who Char? Who’s gone?’ 

They pulled apart, Charity’s eyes looking haunted as she uttered out a word that had P.T.’s world falling into shambles. 

‘Phillip.’

\--

Phillip had died last night, peacefully. 

The last word had P.T. clenching his teeth and fist as he thought about the word - _peacefully._

Nothing was peaceful about this. He was sitting in his study/office, the door tightly closed as he calmed down. 

The letter that tore their world apart was clutched in his right hand, his left gripped the wooden table; trying and failing to find something that would ground him. 

The letter’s contents repeating over and over again in his mind, taunting him. 

_Dear P.T. and Charity,_

_I wish I could’ve told you this in person, but the thought of going out and leaving Anne alone did not cross well with me._

_Last night, Phillip passed away in his sleep. He died in the most peaceful way he could, something I thanked god for. We did everything we could but no matter what Anne and I tried, we could not break his fever. We didn’t have enough money for a hospital - we knew it was out of option._

_We suspect it was an infection that took root in one of his cuts from the fire. Over the past few days, we could do nothing but watch as he slowly starved, unable to feed him anything without it coming back up. He was in misery and sullenly, we knew he wouldn’t be with us for much longer._

_All the performers managed to say their goodbye’s, each visiting Phillip while he was awake and mostly coherent. When he got worse through the night; Lettie, Anne, Charles, and I were by his side to keep him company as he passed on to the next life._

_He did not die alone._

_-W.D._

P.T. memorized every word, regret forming a wave of nausea in his gut. Phillip was suffering and dying in a run-down apartment while P.T. pranced around the circus. 

Anne had even come to him, told him to visit his friend and he naively ignored her, claiming Phillip would be fine. 

Now, he’d never get to see Phillip again… tears slipped out of his eyes but he didn’t wipe them away.

He deserved the gut-wrenching pain he felt, the squeeze of his heart that had him barely able to breathe. 

Tomorrow, P.T. would go to the apartment to see W.D. and Anne, but tonight he would grieve by himself in his study. 

\--

The rain carried on into the next day but Barnum hardly felt the stinging cold as he trudged through the streets numbly. 

He didn’t offer Charity an explanation for where he was going and she didn’t ask. She only offered him a shaky kiss on the cheek before going to talk to the girls - his poor wife needed to explain to their children why they’d never see Phillip again. 

He almost envied her, facing W.D. and Anne was something that terrified him. He had no idea if the siblings would blame him, hate him, grieve with him, or any other emotion you could be feeling during this time. However, whatever they did; P.T. knew he deserved. 

He stopped in front of the run-down apartment building, trying to gather his thoughts and form them into coherent sentences and ideas. 

He took a deep breath and walked into the building, slowly making his way to the third floor. Once he made it, there was a moment where P.T. thought about running away and not confronting the truth, he could run and hide away from it forever... 

But a single memory of a bright young man’s smile had P.T. gentle knocking on the old door. There was slight murmuring before an exhausted W.D. greeted him inside. 

It was easy to tell W.D. was hurting and grieving, but it was just as easy to tell that the man was bravely holding it in as they made their way further into the apartment

The apartment was like the first apartment he and Charity lived in; his back shuddered involuntarily at the thought of the old apartment. There were three rooms; a mattress laid out in the corner of the main room had horrible fantasies flashing through Barnum’s mind like a dream you can’t quite place. 

In the middle of the main room sat Anne on the ground with blank eyes, her head was slightly turned down, it was easy to tell she was completely oblivious to the world around her. 

‘She’s been like this since… since Phillip.’ W.D. softly whispered into his ear. 

Barnum didn’t think he could feel any worse but that was proved incorrect; memories of two bright souls meant for eachother crossed his mind and about what couldn’t be. 

_How can the world do this to them?_

P.T. took a careful step forward and kneeled in front of her, offering a shaking smile. Her eyes didn’t focus on him; still far away in another world.

The tightening in his chest threatened to suffocate him but P.T. managed to choke out some words nonetheless. 

‘Hey, Anne… How about you come back to us?’ The plea fell on deaf ears and the small shake of W.D.’s head. 

‘It won’t work.’ 

He swallowed, hard. ‘Just wait.’ 

A long pause later, there was a small blink and suddenly he was looking at grief stricken eyes. Barnum didn’t know what to expect but he was thinking something along the lines of crying or screaming. 

He didn’t get any of the reactions, instead he was met with a monotone voice that sounded like it would break if the wind blew too hard. 

Maybe she would. 

‘His body is at one of those funeral businesses. They said they’ll clean him up and have him ready for the showing.’ Anne’s voice stayed the same, not cracking or hitching. 

‘The showing?’ P.T. didn’t even think about anything like that or about what that meant. He didn’t know if he would ever be ready to see Phillip’s lifeless body. 

‘We’re going to host something, so everyone can say their goodbyes… especially the people who didn’t get to when he was alive.’ W.D. spoke up. 

Barnum knew who that was directed too but he stayed silent, nodding along. ‘When is it?’ He also ignored the slight crack in his voice. Anne’s voice may be monotone but it was hard to keep his own voice in check. So many emotions welled inside him that breathing normally was becoming a hard task to complete, the thought about Phillip and his difficulty breathing appeared in his mind. Imagining that felt worse than a stab wound. 

‘Tomorrow. The sooner the better.. So he.. So his body doesn’t..’ W.D. coughed, voice thick with emotion. ‘Deteriorate.’

This caught a reaction out of Anne who shuddered and burst into tears. P.T. fell back in shock as W.D. rushed forward and shushed her. 

Barnum’s heart broke for the girl in front of him, one of the strongest women he knew.

Another sickening feeling of reality was taking hold on him as Anne cried into her brother, tears streaming down his face as well. 

Phillip wasn’t there to comfort her like he surely would’ve if he were alive. Phillip couldn’t comfort her because Phillip was… Phillip was _dead._

P.T. already knew this and yet the thought alone - so clear and real - had tears leaking out of his eyes and his hands clutching at his chest. His heart pounded painfully and he felt physically ill. 

As the trio broke down in the old apartment, Barnum found himself wishing this was all a nightmare for the fifth time in two days. 

Then his overactive brain supplied him with another cruel thought - he wished the damned thing would be quiet for just a moment - that had him feeling worse, if that was possible. 

Will the pain of losing Phillip ever stop or lessen, or will the mention of his young protege have him breaking down in tears for the rest of his life? 

Barnum had never felt so lost and hopeless before. 

\--

That night, Barnum stayed up with a liquor bottle to keep him company. The girls and his wife were already asleep, making the silence louder than usual. 

His mind couldn't help but remind him - again -that this silence was caused by Phillip’s absence. The young man’s chatter is only a distant memory as P.T. spilled his darkest thoughts to a bottle. A distant memory that would forever remain a memory; never to be reality again.

It was after this bottle was empty and thrown haphazardly on the floor that Barnum had an idea, a sorrow filled idea. 

It was no secret that Barnum’s circus was still running only because of Phillip; who worked tirelessly through day and night to make sure the circus didn’t go under while he was away. 

Barnum owed a lot to Phillip and it was another punch to his heart knowing he’d never be able to fully pay back his partner. 

These thoughts about Phillip are what led him to think about the unused costume that Phil would never get to wear… but what if…

P.T.’s resolve hardened, he already knew Anne would agree but that wasn’t the reason why Barnum hesitated in the first place; it was the thought of having to see it. 

Phillip could be buried with the costume, forever wearing the bright red and gold waistcoat that marked him a ringmaster. Suddenly, a new idea - so many were pressing at his mind - wormed its way into P.T.'s brain, it was that Phillip was more than a ringmaster, he kept the circus alive and the spirits inside of it bright.

Phil deserved more than the regular old red and gold waistcoat, he deserved something unique. With this last thought, Barnum quickly made his way over to where he stored the circus’ newest costumes. 

It was easy to find Phillip’s and even easier to come up with a design. Barnum didn’t waste a second, pulling out all of the golden thread he could find and looping it between the needle with expert precision, all drunkenness forgotten. 

He started on the sleeves and slowly worked his way up, making sure everything was perfect and not a single stitch was out of place. Outside, the night was becoming day but P.T. didn’t stop, not even after his fingers had become stiff and numb from sewing for so long. 

When dawn finally broke the horizon, Barnum finally sat back from his hunched position and admired the work for a moment before launching out his chair and heading to the business that was in charge of Phil’s body. 

Phillip _was_ going to be buried with this waistcoat no matter what, P.T. would make sure of it. 

\-- 

Later that same day, P.T. was stuck looking around at the mourning faces of his friends, who for once, wore darker colored clothing so they wouldn’t stand out. The showing itself was beautiful, hosted in a small nameless church and filled to the brim with flowers. 

The church was mostly full with people from the circus but a couple of Phillip’s old friends stopped by to give their condolences every now and then. 

Sadly, Phil’s parents didn’t stop by, claiming in a letter that they wanted nothing to do with their son’s death. P.T. almost thought about going over and giving them a piece of his mind but last minute Charity managed to talk him out of it. 

P.T. was dressed in a fine black suit, he felt out of place with the suit but promised himself he wouldn’t change into something more “him”; Phillip deserved to have some respect at his funeral. 

Before the showing, it was agreed that they all leave right after and not watch him be buried. Knowing this group, Barnum was sure someone would try and stop the company from putting him 6ft under. 

A small cough had P.T. looking down at Charles. The small man had been well-mannered the whole time, mostly sticking to himself and staying in the shadows. 

‘Hey Charles.’ 

He looked up and offered a nod. ‘Hey, P.T.’ 

They elapsed into silence until suddenly P.T. felt like he needed to get everything off his chest. ‘I don’t know what I’m going to do without him.’ It was a whisper, a small confession that no one was meant to hear. He looked off in the distance, stuck in old memories that contained a certain bright eyed man. 

Charles brought him back with a small hum. ‘He was a good kid. Phillip kept the circus alive while you were away.. I’ve never seen someone come from such a uptight family and be as kind and passionate as him.’ 

It was very unusual for Charles to complement anyone and it was way too easy to imagine Phillip’s face going red from the attention. Tears pricked his eyes as he continued to spill his guts to Charles. ‘I don’t know if I can do this by myself.’ 

All of his fears seemed to suddenly poor out, the worry and pain of having to continue without Phillip was starting to take its toll. 

‘You’re not alone, P.T. You’ll never be alone. We all miss Phillip and I don’t think a day will go by without me wishing he was here.. But, we have to continue to live.’ 

‘When did you get so wise?’ He meant it as a joke but his voice gave no inclination to this, still closed off from grief.

Charles' response was a grunt before he set off again, disappearing in the crowd. 

His watched where Charle’s disappeared for a moment more until he turned towards the front. P.T. had tried to argue over having a closed casket but Anne wouldn’t have it.

Mostly everyone had already gone up but Barnum couldn’t find the courage. He hadn’t seen Phillip’s face since they became partners at the remains of the old circus and he was scared of what would be there if he dared to look; sunken eyes, a pale face, cold hands, and a skinny frame. P.T. didn’t know if he would ever be ready to see that. 

Earlier, Charity had brought the girls, who sobbed in front of the casket, carefully setting down notes they had made for him along with three roses. Both Charity and he had tried to find out what they wrote in the letters but Helen and Caroline were adamant about it being private, the couple didn’t push and decided to let it go. 

Too soon, the showing was coming to a close and one by one the performers left; all heading to a bar to drink and share stories and memories about Phillip. 

Barnum found that he was unable to move, stuck in the same spot as the church emptied out. He blinked and suddenly he realized it was just Anne, W.D., and himself left. 

The siblings were standing in front of the casket, Anne leaned down as if she were telling her boyfriend a secret. W.D. stood rigidly by her side, refusing to leave her alone to her grief. 

After Anne was done, they turned and stopped in front of P.T. Anne gave him a quick hug and W.D. a firm but comforting handshake. 

‘We’re going to the bar while they… while Phillip is put to rest.’ W.D. said carefully, making sure not to say anything wrong and cause Anne to burst into tears again.

It didn’t look like it mattered, Anne looked like anything would break the poor girl at this point. 

‘I’ll be joining you shortly..’ Was his only response and then silently watched as the Wheelers nodded and left, signifying that he was alone with Phillip’s corpse. 

He looked at the casket from the distance, not moving a muscle. The silence was deafening and before his mind could react, P.T.’s body was walking him closer to the casket. 

A small part of him cringed away while a larger part compelled him forward, willing him to see Phillip’s face one last time before it was covered under 6ft of dirt forever. 

He didn’t know what he was expecting, but seeing Phillip so pale and still, had salty and warm tears streaming down his face.

Barnum lifted a shaky hand and caressed the cold face, a small and pained smile making its way to his face. 

‘Oh Phil…’ He had no idea what to say. Clearing his throat, he forced out a chuckle that was nowhere near genuine. ‘You look good in the new outfit… everyone was complimenting it.’ That was a lie. Everyone was too sad to notice, stuck in their grief but the large part of him liked to think Phillip was listening and soaking in the praise.

Phillip was wearing the same old red and gold ringmaster uniform, except the red velvet was also covered in golden swirls and the swirls were outlined in white, all hand threaded. It looked amazing and in another life, P.T. could see Phillip wearing it in a show, or every show. 

He elapsed into quiet once again, just staring at his partner's face. 

Finally, only two words made their way out of his mouth after the long period of silence. ‘I’m sorry.’ 

P.T. refused to say goodbye, he refused to let Phillip go, his last act of defiance towards death and its cruel hand. He was refusing to believe Phillip was gone. 

With a sad and final sigh, P.T. wiped his eyes and walked out of the church, letting some no-name company bury Phillip in a small and peaceful cemetery. 

\--

P.T. visited his grave after every show. He wouldn’t change out of his ringmaster outfit, collapsing onto the dirt with a huff and telling Phillip about the latest show. 

The cemetery was only three blocks away from the giant tent, offering easy access for everyone who wanted to visit him, and that was a lot of people.

The grave was a nice sized block of marble, (everyone had chipped in to buy it) with his full name; Phillip Bailey Carlyle, his date of birth, and his date of death printed on it in bold letters.

It looked like every grave except for the colors that surrounded it. All kinds of colors; plushies, pictures, flowers, and even foods surround the block of marble at all angles. 

Both Lettie and Charity were the ones making the food, their way of coping. The two women would meet in the Barnum’s kitchen once every week and create some kind of dessert, claiming that Phillip deserved all the sweets in the world and more. 

No one had enough heart to tell them how much food they were wasting on a dead man. 

Caroline and Helen were the ones making the pictures, carefully setting them under some of the other gifts so they wouldn’t blow away. They always had a new picture every time they visited, which was weekly. The pictures were usually about the circus and mostly depicted Phillip in his ringmaster outfit. P.T. couldn’t help but think about how the drawings didn’t do nearly enough justice for the shine that used to be in Phillip’s eyes while the man performed. 

Mostly everyone from the circus visited weekly, all carrying some kind of gift with them. 

Charles had even set one of his special toy soldiers in front of the grave. ‘To protect him.’ Was all Charles said when he and P.T. visited together. It was never mentioned again. 

Anne visited daily, always talking about her day and things she did. There were times where she talked so much her voice blew out, leaving her to quietly perform and lip sync the songs during some of the shows. P.T. was never mad at her and decided not to say anything, she’d already been through enough without him bugging her about losing her voice by talking to her dead boyfriend. 

P.T. didn’t talk as much as Anne, instead; he gently sketched out or explained new ideas he had to the grave. It was like this for a few weeks, Phillip’s grave never being left alone. 

After a particularly good show, P.T. collapsed in front of the grave like usual; adrenaline and excitement flowing through his veins. 

‘You should’ve seen tonight Phil! It was magical, the crowd going crazy for every act!’ His eyes wandered to the darkening sky, eyes shining with ideas and tears. 

Sadness chased away the excitement, leaving nothing but a broken and nostalgic man in its wake. ‘I wish you could’ve been there.’ His voice sounded far away - and perhaps it was. 

He sighed and the grief had his heart aching and his chest feeling that familiar tightness. ‘I’ve been talking about the show so much and how magical it was that I forgot to tell you about the surprise.’ 

He waited a moment, imaging Phillip’s raised eyebrow and gesture for him to continue. ‘It took a while to make it happen but I’ve never been happier with the results.’

A new genuine smile appeared once again, albeit very small and hesitant. ‘I renamed the circus.’ 

He lifted his hands in a placating manner towards the grave. ‘Now now, I know what you're thinking, that I’ve lost my mind again but I promise you’ll like the new name as much as everyone else.’

‘The new name of the circus is The Barnum and Bailey Circus.’ He lifted his hands, opening them to the air as he spoke. 

‘It’s your middle name Phillip! At first, I was thinking about using your first but that made no sense since I used my last. Of course, I couldn’t use your last name… so I decided Bailey would have to do and I admit it sounds way better out loud.’ 

P.T. eyes glistened with tears, imagining Phillip’s reaction perfectly, he could see it so clearly that the longing for his friend doubled. 

He swallowed the lump in his throat. ‘I-I know I never really said it Phil.. but I’m so proud of you. You abandoned all you knew because you trusted me and my promise to offer you happiness. I can only hope you found it while at the circus, even if you only had it for a short time. I’ve never met a man as caring, kind, passionate, and as brave as you, Phil. The world truly lost one of its brightest spirits.’ 

He struggled for breath, chest constricting painfully as he cried for the millionth time in the last month. 

Somehow, Barnum managed to calm himself down and stand up, not caring about his dirty ringmaster outfit. He bowed his head and tipped his top-hat to the grave in farewell. 

He turned, ready to leave and go home, but stopped last minute. The sky was painted in beautiful pastels as the sun set and cast rays of light over the cemetery, creating a halo around Phil’s grave. 

P.T. turned his head back towards the grave and smiled the brightest and most genuine smile he had in the past month. 

‘Rest well, son.’

**Author's Note:**

> **The End!**
> 
> **I know a lot of the characters are very OC but I wrote this story for the angst and tragedy, not really for the character’s behaviors and mannerisms.**
> 
> **The choppiness of it was purposeful, I wanted to write small glimpses of P.T.’s days, not really focusing on whether they blended too well together or not. I thought it added good contrast sometimes, tell me how you felt about it!**
> 
> **Writing this had me shedding a few tears, I won’t lie. Usually I buckle under pressure and write a happy ending, claiming it was all a bad dream or something but this time all you get is tragedy. I know, I’m evil. >:D **
> 
> **This is also the longest one-shot I’ve ever written by at least 2k words and I decided that if this would be one of the only Dead!Phillip stories then I better make it long and good! :D**
> 
> **_Now regarding the Tumblr account! Basically, I've created an account for this Ao3 account. Why does this account matter? Basically, I'll be posting sneak peeks for stories, accepting prompts, possibly creating exclusive drabbles just for Tumblr, dropping extra knowledge/tid-bits about stories (fun-facts), notifying when I post or what my week's schedule looks like, and just being able to talk to Ao3 writers/readers and getting closer to the community!!! My account is: catnip-no-way-man_ **
> 
> **I hope everyone has a lovely day and stay healthy (hopefully you didn’t get heart problems after reading this)!**
> 
> **Sincerely,**
> 
> **Catnip? No Way Man.**


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